


after the war

by BUTtheresareason



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Except Lexa doesn't leave and they defeat the mountainmen together, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Mount Weather, The 100 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26864530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BUTtheresareason/pseuds/BUTtheresareason
Summary: Clarke had gone her whole life believing that she could assess people’s choices from a higher moral ground, until she’d had to tackle her own, right from the day she chose to come clean about her father’s knowledge and to the lever she’d pulled earlier that day. All of it only so it could dawn on her that none of them were told what to do to make it out alive, that everyone was trying their best -even the Mountainmen. At the end of the day, none of them were innocent.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	after the war

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completely self-indulgent thing that I wrote to capture my own thoghts a little bit but processing them through Clexa, so don't expect anything amazing. I wrote it to "Moondust" by Jaymes Young because of course i did.

It was long into the night when Clarke saw Lexa enter the clearing. She herself had wandered that far into the woods in order to find her peace of mind, hoping the glowing insects would help keeping her inner turmoil at bay. She wasn’t sure avoiding her people would do the trick, or how long she had before duty called her back to arms. Maybe that was why Lexa had come for, she thought, dread at the pit of her stomach. 

The night was rather dark, but Lexa walked towards her so decisively that Clarke wondered if maybe she had been following her from a distance -to make sure she was safe, to keep her in line, to be close to her. The endless possibilities made Clarke’s mind somewhat foggy, but then again, thoughts were never particularly lucid when Lexa was involved.

The small clearing was all but silent, Lexa’s expert footsteps not creating any sounds. Clarke thought that was why her voice, barely a whisper, resonated so hard between her ribs.

“You shouldn’t be here alone,” Lexa said, as she dropped herself down beside her, no trace of hesitation to her graceful movements. The Commander stared at the stars above them, and Clarke, following her gaze, wondered if she found them as fascinating as she did the ground.

“Neither should you,” Clarke responded, earning her a small huff from the brunette. Clarke looked at her and saw the tiniest ghost of a smile she knew Lexa only let herself show around Clarke. Their faces were barely lit by some patches of glowing moss sprinkled around the clearing, and Clarke caught herself holding her breath. Lexa was so beautiful. With her face washed clean, her eyes shone with the wonder of the thousand stars that battled each other to shine their light on them, her lips slightly parted and ever so soft, so enticing. With all the power she held, all the knowledge and grief she carried, all the restraint and composure, Clarke could always see something so wild and untamed in her, that she wasn’t sure Lexa allowed everyone to see.

The Commander let the silence settle between them, absentmindedly staring at the sky, letting Clarke stare at her. She wondered what may have become of them, had they met in another circumstances, in a different life where war didn’t depend upon people like them, a reality in which the strongest bond between them wouldn’t be the blood in their hands. Since she would never get to find out, she tried settling for the answers her companion could actually provide her with.

“Does it ever stop?” Lexa drew her eyes to hers, the question hanging in the air between them. “The guilt?”

Nine hours had already passed since the bloodshed had ended, officially bringing the war to an end. The Mountain Men were no more. If historians ever bothered to tell their story, it would be said that the Grounders and Skaikru had won, except none of them felt victorious. Everything had built up so quickly -the acid fog, Cage and Dante Wallace, the lever, the corpses. Grounders and Sky People alike had slaughtered enemies like they weren’t born the same as them, setting aside all remnants of a conscience. It had gone down just as fast as it had begun, and yet, nine hours later, Clarke couldn’t fully acknowledge the things she’d done.

Lexa closed her eyes and bowed her head, letting out a deep sigh. She glanced at Clarke ever so briefly and let out an almost inaudible “no”. The look Clarke gave her must have been full of anguish, because, after a pause, she spoke again.

“You must learn to live with it, and you will. You are a leader and a warrior,” she said, carrying herself like she always did when she was being The Commander, giving out some ancient warrior wisdom. “You have done what you must to survive and you won’t stop now, because you- _we_ don’t have that choice.” She blinked free a lonely tear that coursed down her cheek, and Clarke had to physically restrain herself not to wipe it away. All in all, Lexa’s voice never faltered. “You will keep on battling, whether it’s a real life enemy or the ghosts of the ones you grieve for today. You will learn to go on,” she assured, after a pause, her voice down to a whisper.

Clarke let out a wet sigh and realized that tears had started escaping her eyes as well. Lexa’s stare bore into her, but Clarke couldn’t bring herself to look away. She had known her long enough to memorize her expressions and her temper, her every movement and cadence of her voice, the little mannerisms she didn’t realize she was letting through when wearing her Commander mask, her feelings - _her feelings for the girl who came from the sky._ Although Lexa guarded herself from everyone, from everything, it had always come like an open book to Clarke. And one of the things she had (albeit reluctantly) learned, was that Lexa would always strive to protect her.

“But how?” Clarke said, her voice shaky with tears that were still flowing. She felt rage build a turmoil inside of her. “Should I bury it inside of me, should I stop feeling? Is that what you’re saying, that I should murder my feelings too? Is it what _you’ve_ done?”

Lexa worked her jaw, taking the blow in her stride, and Clarke watched as another tear flowed from her eyes. She was hoping for a confrontation, an explosion of anger from the Commander that would take her mind away from her remorse for five minutes. Instead, keeping her eyes towards the treeline, she simply extended her hand towards Clarke’s and held it strongly.

“You know I haven’t,” she whispered, and it was enough to make Clarke break down. She launched herself towards Lexa’s body, burying herself in her chest while never letting go of her hand, and Lexa held her as she sobbed into the night.

Lexa was right, Clarke knew she hadn’t. She simply couldn’t bring herself to move past the deafening pain that hammered inside of her like Grounder wardrums, so she was taking it out on Lexa, because Clarke knew she would always take it in her stride, she would cushion the blow, she would understand when Clarke herself could not. Clarke cried violently for what felt like ages, Lexa never letting go of her or loosening her grip, iron-clad and impossibly soft all at once.

Lexa was so much stronger than her. Clarke knew Lexa had been through worse, had had to decide for worse, fight worse, get over worse. Only Clarke couldn’t figure out _how_ , because, when you looked at her, when you really looked, you could see the tenderness in her eyes, as well as all the pain she nevertheless struggled to hide. Clarke could see her for what she really was – a child who had been forced to grow up without letting her body catch up, becoming the most powerful person in the world while wearing the bones of this soft and caring girl holding her in the woods. Wordlessly, Lexa held her until Clarke extricated herself and regained her position beside the brunette, silence regaining its domain on the night. Clarke took Lexa’s hand and she let her. There was no need for words, no further movements. Holding hands was more than enough to mourn in silence.

Lexa drew absentminded patterns on the back of Clarke’s hand with her thumb, and the blonde took a chance at gazing at the sky, trying to find the peace of mind that Lexa seemed to be able to draw from it. She started listing constellations in her mind, and when that too became overwhelming, she figured if she tried counting the stars, she would soon lose herself in their maze of shimmers. It seemed like a nice enough way to lose herself, so she gave it a try and started counting. Clarke chose to ignore the unruly but ever silent tears that tainted Lexa’s cheeks, and she ignored Clarke’s, for which they were both thankful.

They kept wordlessly holding hands and staring at the nightsky, telling themselves that it would be okay, that we had done what they had to do, that judgement was not allowed nor in place. Their ways may be harsh, but it was how they survived, right? Clarke had gone her whole life believing that she could assess people’s choices from a higher moral ground, until she’d had to tackle her own, right from the day she chose to come clean about her father’s knowledge and to the lever she’d pulled earlier that day. All of it only so it could dawn on her that none of them were told what to do to make it out alive, that everyone was trying their best -even the Mountainmen. At the end of the day, none of them were innocent.

Eventually, when the sky started clearing enough that they could no longer make out the stars, Clarke drew her eyes back to Lexa’s, only to find she’d fallen asleep despite not having loosened the grip on her hand. It brought a hint of a smile to Clarke’s lips, and when the wave of guilt tried to drown it, Lexa’s sleeping form softened the blow. How she could sleep so peacefully, it was a mystery to Clarke, but then again, it might have just been exhaustion. However it was, there was something about her quiet breaths and slightly parted lips that helped Clarke believe Lexa’s words some more.

She looked around the forest, this vibrant network of life that was sure to carry on thriving regardless of whether she followed or not. She let the breaking dawn wash away the remains of the war and acknowledged the decisions she would have to carry with her. She took a deep breath and sighed.

“Lexa,” she whispered, gently shaking her awake. “We should get back.”

“Mmh… where…?” she mumbled, not fully awake yet. She rubbed her eyes like a little kid, and Clarke found it so endearing that instead of wailing, her mind filled with memories of delicate kisses in dimly lit war tents.

“Home,” she replied, brushing a loose strand of chestnut hair off her face.

That brought Lexa fully awake, and she looked at the Skygirl with so much hope in her eyes.

“We’re going home,” Clarke said. “It’s going to be okay, we- are going to be okay.”

Lexa smiled with her eyes and stood up. They never once let go of each other’s hands as they made their way back to the relief camp, back to their people, their world, back to reality. Which still hurt, and would do so for the time being, but would sometimes- someday, not. Any way the universe would have it, it didn’t matter. Because after the war, the sun would keep on rising, the world would keep on spinning, and Lexa and Clarke would learn to be okay.


End file.
